by Ariel Bonin
"Thousands." Lindsey watched fear ripple through the small group. "Andrew took another car and led them away."
"And you didn't try to stop him?" Zoey asked.
"Believe me, I tried, but he was afraid that we'd steer them right back here. We had to take the school out of their path," Lindsey explained, her expression as tortured as Zoey's.
"Why couldn't you have done it? You have nothing to lose," the girl uttered in return.
Lindsey blinked as she was overcome with shame.
"Zoey," Charlie cautioned in a low voice.
"My dad has me and Jacob—and who do you have? No one!"
"Hey! That was way outta line! I'd better hear an apology real quick…" Charlie threatened as he stepped toward the irate girl.
"What? No! You were thinking it anyway, but you're too damn sensitive to say it out loud," Zoey spat.
"Okay, that's enough!" Charlie reached for Zoey's arm, but she jerked out of the man's grasp. After glaring at Lindsey once more, she spun around and ran into the school.
Lindsey dropped her head in embarrassment, not for Zoey, but for herself. Charlie sighed as the girl disappeared through the front door. Turning around to look at Lindsey, he dipped his head to see her shadowy face. "Lindsey, hey…"
She waved him away before he could go any further. "She's right. It should have been me," she mumbled as she took Charlie's rifle and headed to the top of the bus to wait for Andrew.
_____
Andrew accelerated to stay ahead of the horde, but slowed a bit when he started to lose sight of the large mass in his rearview mirror. He'd watched Lindsey disappear only moments before, her car going in the opposite direction. The adrenaline coursing through his veins prevented him from feeling any other emotions. He knew if he thought about it too much he would begin to worry about her. She didn't have thousands of turners right on her heels, though, so he needed to stay focused on his own safety. She was a big girl—she'd survived for months before they met. He was confident that she could handle herself.
The Camaro straddled the center line and idled with a low rumble. He'd never get sick of that sound. The horde surged forward, the front line only about fifty feet from the back of the car. Andrew tapped on the gas, eliciting a rev from under the hood, and checked his side mirrors to be sure he would be clear for a fast getaway. Right as the first turners reached for his bumper, he slammed his foot down on the pedal. Rubber screamed on the pavement, leaving a black cloud in its wake as the Camaro careened down the abandoned road. He wanted to get as far ahead of them as he could before he made the turn that would lead him back to the school.
As he came over the ridge of a large hill, he spotted a mess of automobiles obstructing his path. He was traveling at a high rate of speed so his only option was to take the car off the road. He attempted to slow down before he reached the block, but it hadn't been enough. The tires skidded on a patch of mud in the tall grass, spiraling the car to face where he'd just come from. The horde began to crest the hill and Andrew felt a stab of panic in his gut.
"Shit!" he growled as he switched gears, but gained no traction.
Suddenly, turners emerged from the surrounding woods and swarmed the front of the car. Gruesome arms and hands filled his windshield. With another string of curses, Andrew threw the car into reverse. The tires continued to spin, but finally caught on some gravel, launching the car backward. Once he had enough momentum, he switched gears again and swung the car into a one-eighty. He steered around the pile of deserted cars, ignoring all the blood-streaked windows. Upon reaching the other side, he straightened out, pushed on the gas, and propelled the car onward down the road.
At one point, he wasn't exactly sure where he'd ended up. He was passing through a small town when he came to the main intersection. A sign pointed to the east and displayed a route number that he recognized—it was the road he needed to take. He blew out the breath he'd been holding as he made the turn.
Somewhere along the way, duel columns of smoke on the horizon caught his attention. It appeared to be some kind of factory, judging from the tall stacks that climbed high into the air. Dread raised the hairs on the back of his neck. After their experience with Marcus, Andrew wasn't too keen on coming in contact with other humans. People were becoming more unpredictable as time passed. It was getting harder to stay alive, and it forced survivors to make merciless choices.
His other concern was the functioning smokestacks. Who could keep such a place running—and why? The only things Andrew would even consider manufacturing were weapons and ammunition. Unfortunately, if that's what these people were doing, anyone on the outside would be on the receiving end.
Andrew made a mental note of his current location, and vowed never to go that way again if he could help it.
Chapter 15
The night dragged on, but Lindsey endured. Even as the temperature dropped and she was overwhelmed with exhaustion, she refused to move. After what had gone down with Zoey, she knew it would be too difficult to go back inside the school. She decided it would just be better to spare everyone the awkward silence by staying on watch.
Hours later, the sun began to turn the sky a light shade of pinkish-purple. The nearby trees silhouetted against it, almost making her believe she was inside a beautiful painting. She wished it were true as she thought of Andrew. Where was he? Was he crashed in a ditch somewhere? A hundred equally-horrible scenarios played out on repeat in her head.
How am I supposed to face Zoey if her father never comes back?
Lindsey closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the side of the rifle, which was situated between her bent knees. She heard the echo of someone exiting the school. She had no idea who it could be. When Dean's large frame climbed onto the bus, she groaned.
"Not right now, Dean. I just want to be alone. Please?" she asked, glancing up at him with tired eyes.
Dean continued toward her anyway and sat down on the cold metal. "You've been alone out here all night. I brought you something to eat," he said as he tried to hand her a granola bar.
Lindsey refused to look at him and shook her head. "I'm not hungry—"
Dean ripped open the outside packaging and stuffed it into her hand. She stared at the small block of food, and then glared at him.
"Eat, Lindsey. You need to take care of yourself."
She rolled her eyes. "Why does it matter to you?"
"Why are you beating yourself up over this? The kid is worried about her dad. Can you blame her? She shouldn't be blaming you, though. You and I both know that Andrew wouldn't have allowed you to be the one to lead the turners away," Dean said, while attempting to meet her gaze.
Lindsey took a pitiful nibble of the granola bar and averted her eyes. "That still doesn't make me feel any better."
Dean sighed. "Well, try not to stress about it too much. I'm sure our fearless leader will make it back eventually," he mumbled as he leaned back to observe the sunrise.
Lindsey picked up on a spiteful tone in his voice and turned to face him. "I get the feeling that you don't think too highly of Andrew."
Dean shrugged a shoulder and shook his head. "It's not that I don't like him. I just don't always agree with the decisions he makes. He needs to appreciate what he has." Dean stopped Lindsey with a loaded glance. "Because if I were in his boots, I wouldn't be going anywhere."
Lindsey flushed under his heated gaze. "And what could he possibly have that you'd want?"
Dean stared at her, unblinking. His dark eyes settled on her pursed lips. It was then that Lindsey realized, in her fatigued state, she'd begun to play with fire. He lifted a hand, presumably to touch her cheek or brush a piece of hair out of her face. Lindsey's heart was pounding. She needed to stop him before things went too far.
The roar of an approaching vehicle caused Dean to drop his hand. Lindsey stood so quickly that she had to brace herself on the bus roof to keep from falling over—her sleepless night had left her weaker than she thought. With bated breath, she
watched the Camaro come into view.
"It's him," she said on a relieved sigh.
_____
Andrew cut the engine just inside the school fences. He noticed his daughter running down the path and quickly exited the car.
"Dad!" Zoey shouted, a wide smile on her face.
"Zoey," Andrew exhaled as they hugged. He'd been so afraid that he would never get to hold his darling girl again. He couldn't have been more thankful for this moment. "How's Jake?"
Zoey nodded. "He's good."
Coincidentally, he saw Caren and Robert coming out to meet him, Jacob in tow. Andrew grinned as Caren handed him his son. He tenderly stroked the boy's hair and dropped kisses on his chubby cheeks. Robert's mystified voice broke through the happy reunion.
"Please say that's for me."
Andrew chuckled. "Keys are in the ignition. Consider her yours." He turned to look at the car and winced. The front hood was smeared in black, gooey blood, making it appear like it had taken part in an interpretive art demonstration. "You may want to wash it first," he suggested.
"Definitely," Robert said, and jogged over to check out his new ride.
Andrew glanced past him and saw Lindsey standing next to the bus. She was the only other person that would complete his homecoming. He started to smile, but stopped when he saw that Dean was behind her. Her expression was hard to read, as he'd never seen anything like it before—it was somewhere between happiness and uncertainty.
With Jacob in his arms, he approached Lindsey. A gentle smile crossed her lips, her eyes softening for an instant.
"Hey," Andrew whispered. Up close, he was suddenly aware of how drained she looked.
"I'm glad you're okay," she replied, and, after glancing over her shoulder, turned to go back into the school. Andrew stared at her receding form in shock.
That's it? That was all she had to say?
He watched as she passed Zoey on her way and thought it odd that they seemed to go out of their way to avoid each other.
Andrew wiped the confused expression off his face and settled his bitter gaze on Dean. The man had also been looking at Lindsey, much to Andrew's displeasure.
Dean glanced back at him and shrugged. "Wonder what's gotten into her," he said with a slight smirk.
As Dean made his way back up onto the bus, Andrew couldn't help but question what the hell had happened in his absence.
Approaching his daughter, he attempted to conceal any unease he was feeling. "Hey, do you mind taking Jake inside? I'd like to talk to Robert for a few minutes."
Zoey took Jacob from him and smiled. "When you're done, could we play some basketball?"
Andrew admired the hopeful look on her face. "Are you sure you want to do that? I might beat you this time," he retorted with a raised brow.
Zoey squinted at him. "I'd like to see you try."
Andrew stood with his hands on his hips and smothered a grin. "I'll meet you on the court in about ten minutes."
Zoey nodded and began to wander back into the school with Jacob in her arms.
Andrew turned toward the Camaro to find Robert in the driver's seat. The young man was inspecting every dial and knob on the impressive dash.
"So, what do you think?" Andrew asked as he propped his arms on the roof of the car.
Robert glanced out the open window at him. "I think this is one of the best days of my life."
Andrew smiled and shook his head, his mind switching to the task at hand. "Rob, do you have a minute? I wanted to ask you about something."
"Uh, sure," he said as he stepped out of the car and shut the door. Nervously, he tucked a hand into his pocket.
"Did something happen with Lindsey while I was gone?"
Robert visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping, yet his eyes continued to dart around in hesitation.
Andrew took a step closer. "Please, I need to know."
Robert scratched the back of his head, his eyes eventually connecting with Andrew's. "When she showed up here without you, Zoey said some things."
Andrew swallowed hard. "What sort of things?" His voice was an octave lower now.
"She said that Lindsey should have stopped you and gone in your place. She said—" Robert faltered, obviously uncomfortable with the topic. "She said that Lindsey had nothing to lose because she has no one."
Andrew closed his eyes and exhaled as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Dammit, Zoey," he mumbled. Pulling his hand away on a sigh, he said, "Was there anything else?"
"Charlie told Zoey to apologize to Lindsey, but she wouldn't. They exchanged some words as well."
Andrew shook his head in exasperation. He briefly glanced up at Dean and saw that the man had his back to them.
"I noticed Dean was on watch with Lindsey. How did that happen?"
Robert seemed puzzled by Andrew's sudden inquiry. They both knew Lindsey wasn't particularly fond of the guy, but Andrew had thought it odd for the two to get back on speaking terms during the short time he was absent.
"Lindsey stayed up there all night, alone. I think Dean went to check on her in the morning," Robert said.
Andrew clenched his jaw and stared at the ground, his nostrils flaring. With a tight smirk, he said, "I'm sure it was out of the goodness of his heart."
Robert shrugged and made sure Dean wasn't facing them when he spoke. "The guy's kind of an ass. I mean, he pulls his own weight, which is great, but his attitude could use some improvement."
Andrew slanted him a look. "You have no idea. Listen, if he should say or do anything that doesn't sit well with you, you let me know. Got it?"
"Okay," Robert replied, appearing somewhat bewildered.
"I appreciate it." Andrew blew out a breath. "I guess I need to have a talk with Zoey."
"Better you than me," Robert said as he turned toward the Camaro.
Andrew released a terse laugh. "Yeah, thanks."
_____
Lindsey and Nadie folded clothes in the desolate laundry room, which consisted of large wash basins and folding tables in the basement. They spoke here and there, but for the most part, were lost in their own thoughts. Lindsey leaned over to pick up another shirt when she lost her footing and fell against Nadie.
"Woah! Are you okay?" Nadie asked, alarmed.
The whole room was spinning. Lindsey couldn't focus on anything as she took shallow, labored breaths. After a moment, the dizziness faded. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Nadie put an arm around her and led her to a chair by one of the basins. "You are not fine. What just happened, Lindsey?"
Lindsey shook her head and her vision swam. She squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm just a little dizzy."
"Have you slept at all since you got back?" Nadie picked up her bottle of water and placed it in Lindsey's hand.
"Not yet," she mumbled.
"Why? So you can be here to fold laundry? This shit can wait." Nadie paused. "Have you eaten anything?"
Lindsey glanced at her with a look of guilt. "I haven't had much of an appetite."
"It doesn't matter. You need to go right now and get some food. After that, you need to sleep."
Lindsey managed a small smile. "Yes, mother."
Nadie moved to help her up, but she waved her away.
"I can do it, thanks."
Lindsey stood and slowly walked out of the room, fighting the wooziness that threatened to overcome her. She finally made it to her room, but before she could reach the cot, everything went black.
_____
Andrew sauntered onto the basketball court, his brain running through all the different things he could say to his daughter. There was no easy way to have this discussion, but it had to happen. He couldn't believe Zoey would be so insensitive, especially to someone as nice as Lindsey. He understood that the girl had been worried, but that was no excuse to take it out on her.
"Hey, Dad! I left Jake with Caren, so we should have enough time to play more than one game!" Zoey said.
Andrew planted himself a few feet away and reste
d a hand on his belt. "Zoey, we need to talk about what you said to Lindsey yesterday."
The girl rolled her eyes. "Why? You're back, so everything's okay."
Andrew scoffed. "Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way. Regardless of my presence, you owe her, and Charlie, an apology."
Zoey dropped the basketball. "Why are you making such a big deal out of this? I only said what was true!"
"You see, that's what worries me. There's something called humility. Just because a thought pops into your head, it doesn't mean you should say it aloud. Besides, she isn't alone—she has us."
"No, Dad, she has you," Zoey muttered, and kicked the forgotten basketball against the brick wall before running off.
Andrew scrubbed his hands over his weary face. He really hoped this was a teenage phase and not what his daughter had grown up to believe was right. Evidently, an apology was not going to come from her anytime soon. The only other thing to do was to talk to Lindsey himself.
His frustration with Zoey was just starting to ebb when he stepped into Lindsey's room, and found Dean leaning over her on the cot. One of Dean's hands rested on her chest, the other was on her cheek. It was difficult to see what the man was doing, because all Andrew saw was red.
"What the hell do you think you're doin'?" Andrew exploded as he grabbed ahold of Dean's shirt and heaved the man against the wall. Andrew pressed his forearm into Dean's throat. "Answer me!"
Dean grabbed at Andrew's arm and bared his teeth. "What the hell, man? Get your damn hands off'a me!"
Andrew glanced at Lindsey's limp form. Panic rose within his chest at the sight. "What did you do to her?" he roared, increasing his hold on the man's throat.
"Nothin', dammit! I was walking by and found her on the floor. I think she passed out!" Dean answered in defense. His eyes blazed with a mixture of anger and concern.
Reluctant, Andrew released Dean and took a step back. The man sputtered and massaged his throat. After taking a calming breath, Andrew turned to look at Lindsey. He knelt over her and cradled her cheeks in his hands.
"Linds? Come on, wake up," he urged.